


Flying Solo

by PaigeTico



Series: Molly Hooper Appreciation Week 2016 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:05:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7934002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaigeTico/pseuds/PaigeTico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Day 4 of Molly Hooper Appreciation Week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying Solo

**Author's Note:**

> This one is shorter than the others because I COULDN'T THINK OF WHAT TO WRITE I'M SORRY

Molly liked being in the morgue. Particularly when she was in a bad mood, being alone in a room full of dead bodies could be, to her, oddly calming. They were silent and cold, and needed nothing from Molly. No speech, no comfort, nothing. Still, she had gotten into a habit of talking to them. She hadn't been doing it for long-it was only when Sherlock had faked his death that she had started doing it. She supposed it was her own peculiar way of dealing with stress.

She talked about anything from her annoying neighbor yodeling at three in the morning to her old crush on Sherlock, and the bodies listened. They didn’t say anything, they just listened. Well, she liked to think that they did. She knew very well that they were dead and decaying, and could no more listen than get up and tap dance.

Today, as she was packing up to leave at the end of a long day of work, her discourse was about her cat, Toby.

‘He’s been acting so oddly lately and I’m just worried. He's not really eating like he used to lately, and he sleeps way more than he used to. I know he’s just a cat and it could very well be nothing but… I don’t know,’

She sighed. ‘Maybe I’ll take him to the vet for a checkup. He’s quite old now, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was his time to go…’

Molly trailed off to retrieve her scarf from the coat rack and shoved it in her handbag haphazardly.

‘He was already quite old when I bought him. And most cats only really live to up to 20 years if they're really lucky, usually a lot less. And who knows how long Toby has been around? And they say cats have nine lives. But how does that work? Do they live nine times, as in they’re reborn as kittens whenever they die, or that they can die eight times and come back the same age that they died at, like Jon Snow? But then what happens if they die of old age?’

Molly picked up her bag and left, flicking the lights off as she went. She shivered as she stepped out the front door. Autumn had slipped into winter imperceptibly, and her surroundings were dusted with a fine coating of powdery snow. She went home is an exhausted daze, trusting her instincts to bring her from St. Barts to her cramped apartment flat, via tube and walking. Upon entering her room it took all her strength to not simply collapse on her bed and pass out. Instead she looked for Toby, and found him in his bed. Sleeping, as he usually was these days. Satisfied, she then proceeded to shower and wash up. Only then did she allow herself to sleep. She didn't notice Toby lying beside her, softly purring and grooming himself.


End file.
